


All Like You In The End

by costumejail



Series: All Like You In The End [1]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: (brief not explicit and only in one chapter), (kobra is trans too but it doesnt come up), (of a non-pov character), Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Drug Use, First Aid, Gen, Injury, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Jet Star (Danger Days), Nonbinary Party Poison (Danger Days), Nonbinary Show Pony (Danger Days), Past Drug Use, Post-Traffic Report (Song), Sexual Content, Smoking, Temporary Character Death, Violence, YES this is my third fic that deals with traffic report what of it, its a traffic report fic u figure out who dies, the major character tag doesnt rlly apply
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:29:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26424163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/costumejail/pseuds/costumejail
Summary: First it was just static, then Dr. Death Defying's voice rang out, clear as day, "Bad news from the zones, Tumbleweeds."
Relationships: (a little background kobracola because of course), Agent Cherri Cola & Fun Ghoul & Jet Star & Kobra Kid & Party Poison (Danger Days), Fun Ghoul & Party Poison (Danger Days)
Series: All Like You In The End [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941784
Comments: 143
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Bighuge thanks to Cherri [@saveyourself](saveyourself.tumblr.com) and Kat [@kryptidkat](kryptidkat.tumblr.com) for betaing this!!!
> 
> This one gets kinda heavy so if there are any warnings that you want elaboration on please leave a comment or [shoot me an ask/message](sleevesareforlosers.tumblr.com)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:  
> \- (Offscreen) minor character death

The crackle of Party Poison's radio startled them into raising their head from the book they'd been reading. Technically it wasn't actually a book, just one of Kobra's zines. But it was a long enough zine that Poison had thought it would be a good way to waste away the morning. Jet Star and the Kobra Kid were out on a run, something about Gravel Gertie needing supplies even though Poison knew that they'd been out helping her just a few days prior. Nevertheless, Kobra and Jet weren't in the diner, Cherri Cola was asleep, the sun too high in the sky for him to feel comfortable out and about, and Fun Ghoul was hidden away in the garage, working on some mechanical... thing. Poison didn't know.

So, Party Poison was alone when the broadcast came in. 

First, it was just static, then Dr. Death Defying's voice rang out, clear as day, "Bad news from the zones, Tumbleweeds." 

Poison’s ears perked up. Whatever the broadcast was couldn't be good, but maybe D would announce the location of whatever clap had gone south and Poison could go try and get the masks, at least?

"Looks like Jet Star and the Kobra Kid—”

No.

"—had a clap with an exterminator that went all Costa Rica and uh..." Dr. D paused. 

Poison hoped he was about to announce this was some kind of cruel prank. But D’s next words sent his world crashing to a halt. 

"...got themselves ghosted. Dusted out on Route Guano."

_No._

"So it's time to hit the red line and upthrust the volume out there. Keep your boots tight, keep your gun close. And..." D paused again. "Die with your mask on, if you've got to."

Poison had stopped hearing the words about halfway through the announcement. They stood numbly as Dr. D announced, "Here is the traffic," and flipped the track over to Show Pony. But they really didn't hear. They could barely see. Their vision was white and their ears were ringing as they stumbled to the door, crashing through it and tripping onto the sandy front step.

Poison got to his feet and rushed to the Trans Am. Where had D said the clap was? Poison fumbled for the keys that were in his pocket and unlocked the driver’s side door with shaking hands.

Maybe the broadcast was on loop? Kobra and Jet were important to the zones. Had been important to the zones. Were important. The news that they were in a clap would surely warrant being repeated. Right?

Poison started the engine and tuned the radio to WKIL. The opening riff of a Mad Gear song was playing and Poison cut the radio off as quickly as they’d turned it on. There was a cruel irony in playing Mad Gear’s music so soon after Jet’s... Not death. They couldn’t be dead.

Even as Poison’s eyes blurred with tears, he backed the car out of the driveway and tore off towards Route Guano. It wasn’t a long stretch of highway, really, only a couple hundred miles. He’d drive the whole thing if it meant finding his brother.

Poison was so focused on keeping their hands steady and vision clear that they didn’t notice Fun Ghoul, standing alone in their rearview mirror.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:  
> \- Drinking and smoking  
> \- Sexual content (nonexplicit)  
> \- Vomiting  
> \- Minor violence  
> \- Self harm  
> \- Discussion of character death (applies to every chapter, though)
> 
> If you want more descriptive warnings or prefer to skip this chapter and want a summary feel free to reach out [on tumblr](sleevesareforlosers.tumblr.com) or leave a comment!

The problem with living at the halfway point of a highway is that you have to drive it one half at a time if you want to drive the whole thing. And the problem with doing that is that if you get overwhelmed after the long hours of the first half, you have the whole way back to stew in those thoughts and amplify everything you’re feeling until you pull over in front of the first lit-up building you encounter, just to have a moment to scream and beat the steering wheel with your fists.

Which is exactly what Poison did. Then he looked up through the windshield, spotted a gaggle of concerned-looking rock ‘n rollers, and realized where he was. Poison closed his eyes and counted to seventeen, then opened them and waved casually to the brightly-coloured killjoys smoking next to the entrance of the Hyper Thrust. He got out of the car and sauntered over to them, doing his level best to act like he hadn’t been witnessed breaking down over the _reported_ death of his brother and best friend.

“Hey,” they drawled as they passed the ‘joys at the door, before entering the hazy bar.

Instantly Poison’s senses were assaulted. Bright, flashing lights coupled with music loud enough to set his head pounding. Smoke curled in the air, carrying the heady scent of cigarettes and something stronger.

Poison didn’t drink. They didn’t smoke. They would go to clubs and concerts and dance and have a good time with Kobra, Jet, Ghoul, and, less often, Cherri, but they would do it all sober. Poison had seen enough rough nights of too much drinking and the resulting hangovers to know that drinking wasn’t something they ever wanted to do.

But Poison also knew that half of the appeal of drinking was being able to shut your mind off. A distraction from everything else as the world gets either too fuzzy or too sharp, depending on who you asked.

And he knew the route to the bar at the back of the club even if he didn’t know anything else about the world. And he knew exactly what to say to get the bartender to pour him a line of colourful shots.

And it only took the first one for Poison to figure out exactly how to toss back the liquor so that it only burned a little on the way down. The second, third, and fourth shots slid down Poison’s throat like water and someone behind them whistled lowly.

“You know how to drink,” remarked a tall rock ‘n roller. Dark hair, pale skin, bright green stars painted across their cheekbones to match the ones that decorated their jacket, and a smile that screamed trouble. “Come here often?”

Poison downed the last shot and slammed the glass down on the bar so hard it dented the varnished wood. “Depends who you ask.”

Poison flashed a hollow smile at the ‘joy and didn’t pull back when they leaned in.

“What do you say we have a dance or two?”

“Think you can keep up?” Poison reached out and stroked the stranger’s shoulder with a finger. 

“I’m pretty confident,” smirked the ‘joy as they wrapped an arm around Poison’s waist. “Hope you know how to move.”

Poison led the other ‘joy — he hadn’t even bothered to get their name — to the dance floor and began to move to the beat. It was easy to ignore that his life was falling apart with the pumping bass replacing his heartbeat and the other ‘joy pressed up against him. They had a good sense of rhythm, and kept their hands tight on Poison’s hips at first, then slid them up under his shirt. Poison kept dancing, turning around to push back into the taller ‘joy while they pressed their lips to Poison’s neck.

It didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel right. But it was the distraction that Poison was after and they rolled their neck to the side, gasping when the other ‘joy bit down on their collarbone.

After a few more songs, Poison’s neck was sore and his hips were surely bruised from how hard the other ‘joy had been gripping them.

“Need some air,” gasped Poison when the music lulled enough for them to be heard.

“I’ll come with,” the roller replied with a grin.

They followed Poison towards the back of the bar, to a little-used side door that Poison knew led out into the empty space behind the bar. No one was out there, and the other ‘joy laughed disbelievingly as Poison leaned against the wall and took a few deep breaths.

“You’ve got some nice moves,” commented Poison’s dance partner while they dug inside their jacket.

Poison didn’t reply. Now that the music had faded, his thoughts had returned and they were filled with images of his brother and Jet.

They were gone, dead, ghosted, and here Poison was, drunk, sneaking around a scummy bar to do stuff they didn’t like with a ‘joy they didn’t know. They dropped their head back against the brick of the building and stared up at the star-filled sky. When had it gotten dark out?

The rasp of a lighter pulled Poison out of his spiralling thoughts. He swung his head around to see the roller extending a gently glowing joint.

"You want some?"

Poison considered the offer. They'd never smoked. They'd made their distaste for Kobra's smoking very clear, even if they never said anything when he actually sparked up a cigarette to calm the racing thoughts that wouldn’t leave him alone.

Poison reached out and took the joint. He held it to his lips and inhaled. 

Instantly, Poison coughed and the other 'joy laughed, "Mouth more used to something else?" 

Poison glared them down with watery eyes and passed the joint back. 

"Here, try this." The roller took a drag off the joint and then stepped into Poison's space. They leaned down to press their lips to Poison's and Poison tried to recoil before they realized what was happening. They inhaled as the other 'joy exhaled and sucked the smoke from their mouth. The 'joy didn't move back once Poison had taken the hit, instead pushing deeper and kissing them quickly, messily, grabbing for Poison’s collar with both hands.

Poison pressed a hand against the other 'joy’s shoulder and they leaned back.

"Good?"

Finally, Poison let out the smoke he’d been holding in his lungs and smiled emptily. "Couple more hits of that, then maybe."

Laughter erupted from the other ‘joy. Not gleeful laughter. Not the laughter that Jet and Kobra would exchange when Ghoul got hurt doing something stupid, not the laughter than Poison would let loose when Kobra made one of his rarer jokes. Not the laughter that Poison only heard when Jet was playing with the Girl. But it was still laughter.

The 'joy took another hit and backed Poison up against the wall again. In just a few minutes, the smoke from the rest of the joint vanished into Poison's lungs and their head was swimming by the time they were only halfway through.

Poison claimed the joint stub from the other 'joy and flicked it into the sand. Kobra would have yelled at him about littering.

But Kobra wasn't here. The only sound in the moment following Poison's littering was the rustle of denim against leather as Poison pulled the other 'joy flush against their body.

“Someone’s excited," commented the roller as Poison fixed his lips against their neck.

"Shut up," Poison commanded roughly.

"Oh, and mouthy too? I like a guy with a little fire."

Poison groaned and pressed up on their toes to capture the other 'joy's lips properly. Anything to avoid hearing them talk. The other 'joy got with the program quickly, though. First just kissing, then running their hands over Poison's torso, hips, thighs. Then pressing one hand flat to Poison's stomach and inching their fingers under the waistband of their jeans.

Poison bucked his hips forward and bit at the 'joy's lips when he felt them smile. They stopped smiling and pulled back.

"What's your damage?"

”I didn’t say to stop." Poison avoided the question. 

The other 'joy growled. "Fine."

They unzipped Poison's fly and jammed their hand into their boxers. Poison's head fell back as the other 'joy squeezed them and they let what could be called a sigh slip through their lips as the roller stroked their length.

It wasn’t enough. The other ‘joy’s lips on his neck and their hand in his pants wasn’t enough to distract Poison from the reality of his situation and after barely a minute he let out a real sigh and pulled their hand from his pants.

“I’m not drunk enough for this.”

“Fuck you, then. No need to be a dick about ‘t,” grumbled the other ‘joy. “Yours wasn’t that nice and y’aren’t even that hot.”

Poison ignored them, zipping their pants back up and sauntering back into the bar.

Well, he tried to. But sometime between his last trip to Hyper Thrust and now, they’d added a lock to the back door and Poison had to stagger around the bar to get back to the entrance. Without the wall at his back and the tall rock ‘n roller at his front, Poison was really feeling the effects of the drinks and whatever he’d smoked. It was hard to walk in a straight line and he kept stumbling, tripping over his own feet.

Just as they actually fell, a pair of strong hands grabbed their arms and Poison looked up to see a pair of sad eyes they knew well.

“Party,” murmured Fun Ghoul. “What are you doing?”

Poison summoned his synthetic energy and flashed a dry grin at Ghoul. “Clubbing, Ghoulie boy! C’mon, let’s get a drink.”

“No.”

The sympathy drained from Ghoul’s voice and Party frowned. This wasn’t how it normally went. Not that they normally drank with Ghoul, or ever drank with Ghoul, but they knew that Ghoul was always willing to have a shot or a hit of something.

“Why not?”

“Party we have to go back to the diner. J— Ko— Did you not hear the broadcast?”

“Nnnoooo.” Poison dragged the word out just to see Ghoul squirm.

Ghoul didn’t squirm. His face crumpled.

“Party, They’re— Jet and Kobes— they’re dead.”

Hearing it a second time didn’t make it any easier. But whatever was flowing through Poison’s system made the situation somehow comical to him and he suppressed a giggle as Ghoul’s eyes filled with tears.

“Wha— Why are you laughing? Party— What? Party,” Ghoul wiped his face and swore, “are you drunk?”

“Maybe.” Poison dragged the word out again and Ghoul’s face hardened, still crumpled, but now frozen with something dark behind it.

“Come on. We’re going home.”

Ghoul half-dragged Poison back to the Trans Am. They saw Kobra’s bike — Ghoul must have borrowed it — parked next to the vehicle. Unceremoniously, Ghoul dumped Poison into the backseat and then left them there while he loaded the dirtbike into the trunk of the car. While Poison waited, they looked up at the ceiling of the car. The old felt was mottled gray and brown with dust and dirt, and covered in years worth of paint, blood, and ink stains.

Poison’s blurry eyes traced over the graffiti his family members had left and barely focused on a smear of red. As the smear got clearer, Poison realized it was a doodle that Kobra must have done. The shaky linework was trademark to his brother's hands, rickety in every situation but a firefight. Poison held up his own hand and found that he, too, was trembling. He shoved the hand under his thigh and closed his eyes. 

The Trans Am dipped as Fun Ghoul got the bike into the back, and then again when he climbed into the driver’s seat. 

The door slammed shut and the engine roared to life. 

Poison tried not to think about cold nights spent curled up in the backseat, with Kobra in their arms and Jet in the passenger seat, reclined just enough that they could call themself horizontal. 

The tirade that Ghoul launched into was as good a distraction as any, and Poison idly tuned in just to forget the way he used to hold his brother when withdrawal tremors wracked his then-small form.

“...you fuckin’ vanished,” Ghoul was saying. “I didn’t know where you went. Cherri wasn’t even awake. I had to wake him up and tell him what happened. I had to do that _alone._ So thanks for sticking around. And you what? Randomly decided that today was the day you give up on the whole sobriety thing. Never touched a drop in your life, never had a smoke. I hope to the Witch you know what was in that joint that roller gave you. You smell worse than zoneweed and I swear if it was laced with something I’m not holding your hair back while you get it out of your system. What the fuck, Pois?” Ghoul’s voice broke. “Did you seriously not know? Do you know the look on Cherri’s face when I told him what D said? Do you—”

The Am slammed to a halt and Poison sat up. His head spun with the movement and he barely got the window down in time to vomit out into the night air.

Ghoul didn’t seem to notice. Or, if he did, he wasn’t in the mood to acknowledge Poison’s illness.

“I’ve never seen him look like that. It was worse than when we lost… You know. And that was his whole fucking crew that time. It... He still asked about you, asked if you knew. Asked what you did. And I… I had to say I didn’t know. Because you left!” Ghoul slammed his hands against the steering wheel, openly sobbing as he yelled. “You fucking vanished and you didn’t tell me where you were going and you left me to deal with this alone!”

Poison opened their mouth to apologize, then thought better of it and spat out the window again.

“I didn’t even know if you were alive! Fuck— You can’t do that. We— we are all that we have left, Pois. I… Thank th’ Witch I found you.”

“I was on top of it.”

“You couldn’t walk three feet on your own and you were getting cornered by that sketchy fuckin’ roller. I know the looks of those guys, you— you’re lucky they let you go. Fuck, Pois. What were you thinking?”

Again, Poison opened his mouth to reply, but Ghoul wasn’t actually interested in hearing it.

“I think Cherri went to get their masks. He said he’d radio if he found them. But he didn’t sound optimistic. I— I talked to Doc. ‘Parently it was a whole patrol plus two exterminators. They— they didn't have a chance. Cherri just hopes he can get their masks back because…”

Ghoul didn't finish the sentence, but Poison knew what happened if your mask didn't get put in a mailbox. If some part of your soul didn't get marked to move on you'd be stuck. Forever. The Witch and everyone else would forget about you.

They shuddered, thinking about that happening to their best friend. To their baby brother.

The car started moving again and Ghoul kept talking in the front seat, but Poison just felt sick. He wasn't even sure if it was because of what had happened to half of his family or because of whatever substances were in his system. Regardless, the longer he focused up at the ceiling of the car, the more fractured his vision went. He kept staring up at the ceiling, refusing to blink.

Every time Poison closed their eyes they saw Jet and Kobra.

Ghoul was somehow still talking. Poison heard the cadence of his voice but the words slipped through his ears without leaving an effect. All he could think about was his brother. Jet. How he was going to carry on without them.

It wasn't fun to think about. It had been much more fun in the bar. It hadn't felt good or right. The stranger's hands had been rough and Poison had no interest in what they'd wanted, but at least it’d been something else to think about. Something other than their brother and Jet growing cold and stiff on the side of a dusty, cracked highway.

Ghoul finally stopped talking as Poison began to laugh. He pulled over and crawled into the backseat.

"Pois," Ghoul kneeled in the footwell and rested his elbows on the edge of the seat, eye level with Poison. "I'm sorry."

Poison didn't acknowledge Ghoul. Or couldn’t, he wasn’t sure. He stared at the ceiling, jammed his knuckles into his mouth, and bit down hard. He felt the skin tear and he felt the slow drip of blood into his mouth and he felt his own joints clash against his teeth but he didn't let go. It hurt. But it hurt much less than the truth of his life right now.

"...stop! Poison, stop it!" Ghoul grabbed Poison's wrist and wrenched their hand from their mouth. Poison lashed out clumsily with their other hand, barely catching Ghoul in the temple. "Fuck. You— Don’t _do_ that, Pois."

"I—" Poison had a snarky reply all planned out, but as soon as he opened his mouth his throat closed up.

"C'mon. We're almost home. You should sleep and we— we'll figure it out in the morning."

By now, Ghoul's presence in the backseat was suffocating. He was so close, right in Poison's space and clutching their bleeding hand too tight. So Poison nodded, anything to get Ghoul away.

First, Ghoul rested his forehead against Poison's. Poison shuddered and pressed his head back into the leather seats, trying to get some space. Ghoul's eyes were back to being sad when he pulled away, but he didn't say anything. He climbed between the front seats and started driving again.

Poison returned to staring at the ceiling of the Trans Am.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:  
> \- Brief allusions to drinking  
> \- Heavy violence  
> \- Blood and injuries  
> \- Drug use and allusions to past drug use/addiction  
> \- Vomiting  
> Feel free to [reach out](sleevesareforlosers.tumblr.com) if you need more elaboration!

When they got home, the diner was dark.

"Girlie's at the Shack," explained Ghoul as he supported Poison towards the building.

Poison’s legs were weak, twitching slightly in a way they'd never experienced before. They didn't reply.

Ghoul dropped Poison on his bed in the back room of the diner. The same bed that he used to share with Jet, Kobra, and Ghoul — three or four of them crammed onto the mattress at a time. That, of course, had changed when Cherri joined the crew, and again when they adopted the Girl. But still, there were always nights when as many of the crew as could fit on the mattress (sometimes all of them) would tangle together and hold each other close. 

The bed felt empty now. It was, Poison supposed. Ghoul had closed the door behind himself and Poison could hear him pacing aimlessly around the rest of the diner. Even through their lingering intoxication, Poison knew that they should feel bad for Ghoul, for how they’d vanished on him. They knew they should’ve gone to Ghoul for help because he’d _been through this before_. But they didn’t want to acknowledge those feelings. 

So they didn’t. 

The door opened again, and Ghoul entered the room. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t leave you alone. I don’t… I don’t really want to be alone, either.”

The room was too dim for Poison to see Ghoul’s face, but from the thickness in his voice, Poison knew that his eyes were rimmed with red. 

“Okay.”

Ghoul took that as an invitation and crawled onto the bed. Something about Poison’s body language, or maybe just his actions that evening, kept Ghoul from curling around him like he normally would. So the two ‘joys, the remaining members of the Fab Four, lay eight inches apart on the bed and breathed quietly. 

Eventually, it could have been seconds or hours later, Ghoul’s breath evened out and Poison could tell he was asleep. They were nearly sober now. It had been hours since the drinks, the joint, and the rejected handjob behind Hyper Thrust. Now the unfiltered awareness of their circumstance was entirely unwelcome. 

Needlessly carefully — Ghoul was too heavy a sleeper for Poison to wake him without serious effort — Poison climbed over Ghoul and out of the bed. He stumbled across the pitch-dark room to the desk where a radio lay. When he picked it up, Poison recognized it from the paint-rough texture of the back. Jet’s radio. Poison knew it so well because he’d been the one to decorate the radio after he accidentally broke their first one. Jet hadn’t been mad, but Poison still felt bad about it and spent probably far too many carbons to get the exact right shade of purple, Jet’s favourite colour, to render the sunset scene on the worn plastic. 

Poison left that particular memory behind as they left the bedroom and lit a lantern in the hallway. It took them a moment to remember the frequency they were looking for; it had been years since they’d told this ‘joy to stop contacting their brother and a week after that to convince Kobra that he didn’t need what the ‘joy was offering. 

“King Mohilla, come in.” Poison muttered into the radio once he’d dialled in the right frequency. 

“Who the fuck is this?” The answer came quickly and Poison rolled their eyes. Of course he was active at this hour. 

“I’m looking for somethin’ sweet.”

“Like I said. Who the fuck is this?”

“A paying customer. Y’really need a name?” When Poison released the transmit button, he muttered a curse. He’d forgotten how much of an arrogant prick this particular rock ‘n roller was. 

“I know this voice,” Mohilla laughed. “Party Poison! Thought you didn’t need what I had. I seem to recall someone telling me to ‘Get the fuck out of their life before they ended mine.’ Ring any bells?”

“Eat shit. You want a sale or not?”

“Why? Your brother decided he needs another hit? Oh, wait,” Mohilla chuckled and Poison gripped the radio tighter. “I thought I heard a little somethin’ about him over the waves earlier today. Someone bite off a bit more’n he could chew, hm?”

“Fuck you.”

“Ooh, that’s convincing. You still need somethin’ sweet or not? I’m at the Nest. See you in twenty.”

Static roared as the ‘roller on the other end cut off the transmission and Poison swore again. 

They didn’t need to go. They could just go back to bed. Things would be better in the morning. Ghoul might wake up and wonder where they went. Drinking and smoking was one thing but did Poison really want to deal with this guy and the stuff he dealt?

Poison walked out of the diner.

Ghoul had left the keys in the Trans Am, so it was that much easier for Poison to make up his mind. He slid into the driver seat, started the car, and drove off into the night.

Twenty minutes later, they slowed to a stop in front of the Nest. Only one or two lights were on, just enough to silhouette the hulking figure leaned against the porch railing. 

He took a drag off a cigarette as Poison got out of the Trans Am and flicked the butt away, into the sand. Both ‘joys stared at each other for a minute, unmoving. Then King Mohilla spread his arms.

“Party Poison! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” His deep voice boomed across the still night while Poison quickly rethought the encounter.

“Not lookin’ for small talk.”

“No? You wound me,” Mohilla pressed a hand against his chest and laughed. “Oh well, how are things at home? How’s the family? Sorry— I mean what’s left of it.”

Poison took a deep breath, trying to contain his rising anger. “You gonna make a deal or not?”

“Sure,” Mohilla patted down his pockets, eventually pulling a small bag from somewhere inside his jeans. “Here.” He tossed it towards Poison. “Don’t take it all at once.”

Poison caught the bag and held it up to the light. The powder inside was finely ground and tinged light purple. “What am I supposed to do with this? Isn’t it a drink?”

“Not this form. Y’smoke it, shit idiot. Dig through your brother’s things, I’m sure he’s still got a spoon stashed away somew—”

Poison effectively cut off Mohilla by slamming into him. They crashed through the porch railing and hit the boards. Poison landed on top of Mohilla and wasted no time in raining blows down on him. Stunned from the fall, Mohilla just lay there for a minute. Poison hit every inch of him they could reach. Sick thuds echoed off the walls of the Nest as knuckles connected with cheekbones, teeth, eyes. Poison didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, not even when their already damaged hand protested, nor when their other hand split along the knuckles. No one inside came out to stop the fight. Out of the corner of their eye, Poison saw the curtain twitch, but they ignored the movement in favour of letting themself be ruled by their emotions for just a little while. Just long enough to make this roller feel even a fraction of the pain that Poison was.

Of course, Poison couldn’t have anything good last and his luck ran out when Mohilla came to his senses. He was large enough that it took no effort to flip Poison off of him and climb on top of him. Poison thrashed and swore and struggled as Mohilla got his revenge, fists pounding not only Poison’s face and head but his chest too. One particularly hard blow connected with Poison’s ribcage and he felt a crunch. Poison _screamed_ and it seemed like that was finally enough for the occupants of the Nest.

The front door slammed open, throwing light over the bloody scene. Three younger ‘joys rushed out and it took all of them to pull Mohilla off of Poison. Two of them held tight to the raging dealer as the third helped Poison to their feet. Poison pushed the ‘joy off as soon as they were standing and spat a mouthful of blood towards Mohilla.

“What do I owe you?”

“First one’s free, baby. You’ll be back.” Mohilla flashed a bloody grin at Poison and blew a kiss when he stooped to pick up the bag that he’d dropped.

“You okay?” murmured the young ‘joy that refused to leave Poison’s side.

“Fine.” Poison snapped. They didn’t stop to thank the trio for pulling Mohilla off them, just brushed them off and returned to the Trans Am, the bag of powder now stowed securely in their pocket.

The drive back to the diner was the most painful of Poison’s life. He kept having to slow to spit blood out of the window. His right eye was rapidly swelling shut, and his ribs ached where Mohilla’s fist had connected with them. By the time Poison got back to the diner, the sun was rising and he was squinting against the glare.

A pair of sunglasses rattled around the glovebox, but Poison knew that they weren’t theirs.

The bell that hung over the diner door rang as Poison pushed the door open and limped through it. He winced. The sound was somehow so much louder than normal and it set off a sharp pain behind his eyes to accompany the dull throbbing that had taken up residence in his brain.

“Party?”

Of course, Ghoul was awake. He walked out of the broadcast room looking pale and tired. His hair stuck up where it wasn’t captured in his braids like he’d been running his hands through it. 

“Honey, I’m home,” Poison leered, knowing they were bruised and bloody.

“Wh-where did you go? I woke up and you weren’t here and you d-didn’t even leave a note. I thought..."—A tear slipped down Ghoul’s cheek—"I don’t know what I thought. What happened?”

“Disagreement.”

“Thank th’ Witch you’re okay.” Ghoul hovered, looking a little unsure of what to do. "Stay here. I’m—I’m gonna go tell Doc you came back. I had him put out a call... I’ll be righ’ back.” 

At the wave of Poison’s hand, Ghoul turned and headed towards the broadcast room. He wasn’t gone long; just enough time for Poison to settle onto their worn couch. When he returned, Ghoul paused in the middle of the dining room. He took a step towards Poison and stopped. Then he ran forward, jumping onto the couch and wrapping his arms around Poison. Ghoul started to say something, but Poison’s shriek cut him off as Ghoul’s arms tightened around his damaged ribs.

“Fuck. Are you—? Party?”

The tremor in Ghoul’s voice was almost too much for Poison to take. They pushed him off, holding one hand in front of their chest where the pain was sharpest.

“Little sore, Ghoulie boy,” Poison wheezed.

“Okay, let’s— _fuck_. Okay. I’ll check you over, get some food, and— I don’t know. I’ll see if Pony can come over.”

Poison nodded and let Ghoul ease him back into the cushions. He focused on breathing slowly while Ghoul hurried into the kitchen. He returned quickly with a can of PowerPup and a spoon.

“Here, I— Oh, fuck, I forgot th’ medkit. Be right back.” Ghoul cupped Poison’s swollen cheek in one hand and sighed a tiny bit when they twisted their head away.

When Ghoul again disappeared into the kitchen, Poison dug the baggie out of his pocket and tipped some of the powder into the spoon. 

Sugar. Not the Zones’ only drug, but the one that had the strongest effects in the least amount of time. Also, the one that Kobra had had the worst time getting off of when he was new to the Zones. Poison almost smiled to think about how mad they used to get when Kobra would wander back into camp, pupils blown and claiming to see things that no one else could. If only he could see them now.

Poison reached between the couch cushions for the lighter that Kobra normally kept stashed there and did smile when his fingers closed around it. The lighter sparked. Poison held it under the spoon until the powder had liquefied and started to bubble. Then he inhaled the vapour and barely coughed as he exhaled.

The smoke tasted disgusting, smelled worse, and instantly set Poison’s senses on fire. It probably would have been smart to stop. Poison had seen how Sugar affected different people and had no idea how they’d react to it. They inhaled again. They kept the lighter in place until their head felt heavy and their ribs stopped aching. Then they dug the dirty spoon into the can of PowerPup and started to eat, suddenly ravenous.

Ghoul emerged from the kitchen with the diner’s medkit and fresh tears staining his face. He put on a manufactured grin and spoke.

“Found it! Took forever, but… Pois? Did you burn something?”

Around a mouthful of PowerPup, Poison garbled a half-assed explanation as he airily waved a hand. Ghoul came closer and his eyes fixed on the open baggie by Poison’s hip.

“What’re you doing with that?”

Poison started to laugh.

“Party y-you can’t do this. That’s— You don’t want to do that. Please tell me you d—” 

Ghoul reached for the bag and Poison saw red.

They surged forward, wrapping their arms around Ghoul’s waist and tackling him backwards. Unlike Mohilla, Ghoul managed to twist as they fell, so Poison didn’t land on top of him, but they both crashed to their sides on the floor. Poison screamed when they hit the ground, icy hot splinters wrapping around their entire torso. Their head hit the linoleum and their vision erupted into sparks.

“Witch, Pois? Poison? Stay with me, okay?”

Ghoul’s face came into focus. He rolled Poison onto his back and Poison gasped, trying in vain to fill his lungs with something other than crackling pain. Finally, Poison got a lungful of air and immediately started coughing.

“Shh, shh. You’re okay. Come on, Pois. Just breathe slow.”

Ghoul’s voice was something to focus on, and Poison latched onto it with all their might. It seemed like time slowed down as Ghoul ghosted his fingers down their sides and front, the whole time murmuring words that didn’t reach Poison’s brain. All Poison heard was the sound of Ghoul talking, trying to soothe them, pull them back to the moment they wanted so desperately to escape.

“...Pony over. Your ribs are broken and I don’t— I don’t wanna leave you alone like this. Pois? Party, can you hear me? Nod if you can hear me.”

When he nodded, Poison’s stomach lurched. He turned his head to the side and vomited a thick stream of PowerPup, stained purple.

“Fuck. Party you— Tell me this is a joke. Please tell me you didn’t.”

“Oh, I did.” Just those three words sent Party gasping for air again and Ghoul let out a soft noise.

“Okay.” He nodded. “Okay. We— Fuck, we’re gonna talk about this. But... I gotta get you off the floor. Did you get any sleep? At all?”

“N-no.” Poison’s teeth had started to chatter.

If they were aware of themself even a little bit more they’d remember all of this happening to Kobra when he was struggling with Sugar, but the only awareness that Poison held right now was of how _thirsty_ they were.

“Okay. Let’s go to bed. I’ll call Pony and— and we’ll get this sorted out. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Water.”

“I’m not leaving you alone until Pony gets here.” Ghoul grabbed Poison’s shoulders and pulled him to sit up. “This’s gonna hurt.”

With no more warning, Ghoul lifted Poison to their feet, then looped an arm around their hips, leading them to the bedroom as quickly as he could. Poison barely avoided another scream as their battered ribs protested every movement. The trip to the bed probably only took seconds, but they felt like hours to Poison’s aching body. Finally, Ghoul lowered them to the bed and the fire in their lungs eased just enough that they could suck in a shallow breath.

“Pony,” Ghoul’s voice sounded somewhere just beyond Poison’s field of vision. “Come in Show Pony.”

Garbled static flowed from the radio, Poison could have heard the words if he wanted to.

“Thanks, yeah. I— I need you t’ come over. Pois’s— Uh. They’re pretty fucked up,” Ghoul dropped his voice to a whisper. “I don’t— It’s— Yeah. You think you can bring your kit?”

Ghoul paused for a long time.

“Oh. How soon d’you—? Okay. I’ll keep an eye on ‘im until then. Thanks.”

Ghoul set the radio down, maybe a little more forcefully than he should have.

“Ae're gonna come over tomorrow.”

Moving uncharacteristically smoothly, Ghoul climbed over Poison to settle between him and the wall. Poison closed his eyes, tuned in to the sound of Ghoul’s broken sniffles and the flashes of colour behind his eyelids.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:  
> \- Talking about drug use

Right around the time their high faded and Poison settled back into their body, Ghoul’s tears had abated to the occasional sniffle. Poison opened their eyes and rolled their head to the side so they could see him.

“Hi.”

“You sober?”

“Sadly.” Poison reevaluated the weightless feeling in his hands. “Maybe.”

“Pois. You can’t do that. Please. Promise me you won’t— Promise it was just that one time.”

There was nothing funny about any of it. But Poison laughed anyway. They didn’t sound human, even to themself. “I’m gonna sleep.”

“Okay,” whispered Ghoul. “I’ll keep watch.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:  
> \- Allusions to past addiction  
> \- Aftereffects of drug use

In retrospect, Poison should have apologized to Kobra for never understanding just how bad the comedown from a Sugar rush was. Not that he’d have the chance to now, but it was still something he idly considered later that night when he woke up to shake out the remnants of the drug.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:  
> \- Violence  
> \- Past and new injuries  
> \- Blood  
> \- Suicidal ideation  
> As always, feel free to ask me for more clarification on any warnings!!

The next morning arrived with no change in Poison’s pounding headache or the knife-sharp pain in their ribs. Ghoul had, it seemed, finally run out of tears, and simply sat at the headboard, not touching Poison.

Poison was staring up at the sunlit ceiling when he heard it. A car engine.

“Pony’s early,” Ghoul mused.

The engine cut out and the two ‘joys heard a pair of feet hit the ground. Then another. Then another. And another.

“That’s not Pony,” snapped Poison. 

“Pois—”

They shot up and out of bed before Ghoul could stop them and were halfway to the dining room before they even heard Ghoul’s feet hit the floor. Poison snatched their ray gun and mask from their hook behind the counter and checked the gun’s battery.

Less than half a charge.

Well, Doc had said to die with your mask on. 

Poison slipped his over his face and stormed out of the diner door.

A shiny white Firebird sat squarely in front of the diner. Two dracs lounged against it, and another two stood in front of the door, looking very startled to be faced with The Zones’ own Party Poison.

Poison didn’t even think before raising their arm to shoot the first drac through the throat. The recoil vibrated down their arm and into their ribs. Poison gasped, determined to hold the gun steady enough to take down the second drac.

But the other drac recovered from its shock fast and landed a kick to the back of Poison’s calf. He went down, blindly firing towards the drac as he fell to his knees. A blow to the back of Poison’s neck told him that he’d missed and he hunched forward. When Poison recovered from the blow, he straightened back up, trying to keep an eye on the three remaining dracs.

The two against the car were now stalking toward Poison with guns drawn, though they didn’t shoot. The third, the one who’d taken Poison down, wrapped an elbow around their neck, wrenching their head back.

But it didn’t think to take his gun, and Poison jammed it into the drac’s mask, pulling the trigger and closing his eyes against the shower of blood that erupted when his shot landed. The drac collapsed forward, flattening Poison underneath its dead weight. Sparks shot through Poison’s vision as his ribs ground together and it took all of his determination to stay alert.

Unfortunately, it worked. Poison felt the harsh hands of the two remaining dracs latch around their shoulders and pull, not even bothering to push the corpse of their compatriot off him first. One drac wrapped its elbow around Poison’s neck, pulling until he could hear the blood rushing through his skull. Poison gasped for each breath he could steal, vision flashing white as his ribs tried to expand fast enough to keep pace with his frantic breathing.

The other drac knocked Poison’s raygun from their hands, then pulled its fist back to punch him squarely in the face. Poison’s head snapped back, colliding with that of the drac holding them. They recoiled forward and watched their blood drip to the sand in front of them.

Then the drac in front of them collapsed. Behind it, Ghoul stood in the diner door, two guns drawn and his purple mask obscuring his face.

The drac holding Poison shifted. He felt the cold press of a raygun to his temple and slumped slightly in its grip.

Idly aware that they were about to die, Poison’s mind drifted. The staredown seemed to stretch into eternity, Ghoul’s guns shaking as he levelled them at the last drac. But Poison didn’t really pay attention. They wondered if Ghoul would survive the confrontation to take their mask to the mailbox. Or if not, how long their corpses would lie in the sun before someone came to check on them.

The drac shifted, tightening its hold around Poison’s neck.

Poison looked up. Ghoul’s impassive mask stared back at him and he flashed a bloodstained smile at his last family member.

“It’s okay, Ghoulie.”

At least they’d see Kobra and Jet soon.

Ghoul shook his head once, then dropped the barrel of one of his guns slightly and fired.

Poison’s knee erupted into pain so intense it felt black. They passed out before they hit the ground.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:  
> \- A little discussion of violence  
> \- Nonconsensual minor medical procedures  
> \- Allusions to past drug use
> 
> Also, I somehow didn't use pronouns for Pony in this chap but ae use ae/aer!

“C’mon, Pois. You’re okay. You’re fine. C’mon, you’re _okay._ Wake up. Wake up, wake up, _wake up.”_

Something wet splashed onto Poison’s face and he wiped it away clumsily. 

“There ya go, sugar. Halfway there.”

That was a new voice. Poison opened their eyes to confirm their suspicion. Show Pony.

“Hey, doll,” Pony smiled down at Poison. “Havin’ fun?”

“Not particularly.”

A derisive noise came from the ‘joy next to Pony. Fun Ghoul.

Of course. A memory flashed in front of Poison’s eyes and he frowned.

“Did you… shoot me?”

Ghoul’s face closed off.

“Only a little,” Pony assured them. “I wrapped your knee up and it looks fine. Barely grazed ya, really!”

“Oh,” Poison closed his eyes. “Okay.”

Something felt off. Poison knew that their ribs were fucked up and they knew now that they’d been shot. Yet, for some reason, the most pain they felt was a dull twinge rather than the blinding pain they’d been in during the confrontation.

Had he been out that long? Poison opened his eyes to ask, then noticed the clear tube snaking up and out of his vision.

“Pony,” they fought to keep their voice even. “Is that an IV?”

“Oh, yeah, Party, baby. Ghoul told me about— Uh... About things and I figured you were gonna be a bit dehydrated. Was easier than trying t’ pour juice down your throat!”

“No. You did more. What did you give me?”

“Well… It’s mostly just saline but I put in a bit of a painkiller because I checked your ribs and they’re definitely bro—”

“Take it out.”

Pony faltered, “What?”

“Take it out.”

“Doll, I don’t—”

“Take it out right now, what the _fuck._ ”

Silent up until this point, Ghoul opened his mouth and just. Snapped.

Tears streamed down his face as he ranted at Poison about how “Sugar is no problem but a fucking _IV_ is where you draw the line?” until Pony had to lead him away by the arm. Ghoul returned clutching two anti-inflammatories that Poison also turned up their nose at and stood in stoic silence as Pony removed the IV.

Pony left soon after, pressing an unwelcome kiss to Poison’s forehead and giving Ghoul a long hug at the door. Ghoul came back to the bedroom that Poison lay in and told him, “Just get some sleep. Fuck, just— just get some sleep.”

Poison didn’t. But they did close their eyes so that Ghoul would think they did.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:  
> \- Discussions of suicidal ideation  
> \- Vomiting  
> \- (Very vaguely) implied drugging  
> \- Nonconsensual kissing (brief)  
> \- Missing/skipping meals

Maybe Poison did get some sleep. They opened their eyes to a room filled with sunset colours. There was a glass of water on the bedside table and they slowly reached for it. Ghoul’s head popped up from next to the bed, startling Poison into nearly knocking the glass off the table.

“Here, let me.”

Ghoul propped Poison up against the headboard and slowly helped him drink. The water tasted kind of off, but Poison’s mouth had been so dry that he just figured that was the reason why.

“Did you… You tried in that fight, right? That wasn’t your way of giving up?”

“Sure.”

Ghoul didn’t seem to like that answer. He got up and paced the room, running his hands through his hair over and over.

Poison mostly ignored him. Now that they were awake, the pain in their ribs and knee had returned with a vengeance and they’d drank the water too quickly. It sat heavy in their stomach, threatening to come back up with every shallow breath.

When it finally did, Ghoul sighed, rolling Poison onto his side so that he wouldn’t drown in his own vomit.

Poison almost wanted to tell Ghoul that if he didn’t want to help he could just go and leave them to their pain. But it didn’t seem like that was on Ghoul’s mind when he sat down and softly murmured nonsense while Poison vomited again and again. Nor when he gently wrapped his arms around them when the shivers started as they lay on the bed. 

Poison tried not to think about all the times he’d done the same thing for Kobra.

By the time the sun had fully set and the desert cooled off enough to warrant a blanket, all that was left were the tremors. And the image behind Poison’s eyelids every time they blinked. 

Probably not a real memory, but just an image of Kobra and Jet. Jet holding the Girl as a baby with Kobra poking a finger through one of her curls. Poison could almost hear their laughter if he strained, but he didn’t want to. So he stared at the ceiling, refusing to blink and half-focusing on Ghoul, still murmuring gently into Poison’s ear.

“Shut up.” Poison finally summoned the strength to turn in Ghoul’s arms. They didn’t know why their ribs hurt marginally less, but they weren’t going to complain as they freed themself from Ghoul's grasp and rolled him onto his back.

“Pois, wh-what’re you doing?”

”Don’t worry about it,” Poison dropped his voice and bit his lip. Stunned, Ghoul didn’t move as Poison straddled his hips and slowly lowered himself to his elbows, face inches from Ghoul’s. “Just let me—”

They pressed their lips to Ghoul’s and sighed. It still didn’t feel good, it still didn’t feel right. But as they pressed down on Ghoul with more of their body weight, they could focus on kissing him, on stroking his cheekbones and jaw ever so gently with their thumbs, on anything except the growing emptiness behind their sternum. They focused on sliding their hands down from Ghoul’s face to his waist, then on the feeling of Ghoul’s hands dragging up their sides. Then they focused on Ghoul’s hands hard on their shoulders as he pushed them up and back.

“Party—”

“Shh. It’s okay,” Poison insisted. “Just—” He tried to lean down again, to close his eyes and forget everything, but Ghoul held him back by his shoulders and kept looking up at him with the same broken expression.

“Pois, stop.”

Poison stopped. 

“This— this isn’t you. You don’t want this. I know you don’t.”

“Witch, Ghoul I’m—” Finally, something broke inside Poison and they collapsed down onto Ghoul, sobbing.

“I know. Witch, I know.” Ghoul gathered Poison up in his arms and held him.

It felt better than anything had since the broadcast. Ghoul sat up, carefully minding Poison’s ribs, and squeezed them tight, rocking back and forth slightly as they cried. Huge shuddering breaths accompanied the endless slide of tears down Poison’s face and into Ghoul’s shirt.

“I know. I miss them too but you can’t— you gotta keep going. I’ve been here, I’ve been you. I— I know it’s so much easier to forget but… You can’t. I won’t let you. Okay? We’re in it together. Okay?”

Poison nodded once before burying his face in Ghoul’s chest. The initial sobs had passed and now he just let Ghoul comfort him as he cried and cried.

“I’m sorry, Gh— I’m so sorry.”

“I know. It’s… We’ll get through, okay? I don’t blame you.”

“You should. I— I’ve been _awful_. I’m— You deserve more. You deserve a crewmate that can... Witch, Ghoul, I’m so fucking—”

“Fuck that. I just want you to be okay,” insisted Ghoul. He buried a kiss in Poison’s hair and sighed. “I need you to be okay.”

“Okay,” Poison sniffled. 

Two day’s worth of pain washed over Poison as they broke down. Ghoul’s arms around them felt like the only thing keeping them from fracturing into a million jagged pieces. A reminder that they weren’t doing this alone. They let themself be held, practically melting against Ghoul while they waited to run out of tears. It could have been hours later that they sat up on their own, as much as they could before the pain in their ribs grew to be too much. 

“Lie down, I got you.” Ghoul propped Poison against a pillow and stroked his hair back from his sweaty forehead. “If I go get you some water, promise you won’t move?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” 

With a kiss to Poison’s forehead, Ghoul climbed out of the bed. They heard him clatter around the kitchen, then his footsteps back towards the bedroom. Ghoul reappeared in the doorway holding a bottle of water and the can of PowerPup that Poison had been eating what felt like weeks ago, but had really just been two mornings earlier. 

“You probably don’t feel like it, but y’should eat something. When was th’ last time you held anything down?”

Cautiously, Poison grabbed the bottle, nearly dropping it before he managed to get his grip right on the plastic. It was already half-open, so it was easy for him to unscrew the top the rest of the way and take a shaky sip. The water went down easily, and he kept gulping at it until Ghoul had to stop him. 

“Don’t overdo it. Have a bite.” He held out a spoon loaded with PowerPup. 

“Don’t gotta feed me like I’m a kid,” Poison grumbled before he accepted the spoonful. 

“Yeah, yeah, here comes the hovercar.” Ghoul made a zooming noise and Poison giggled just a bit in response. 

The PowerPup sat much heavier in his stomach than the water did. Poison’s stomach was uneasy after just one bite, but they knew that was mostly because Ghoul was right, they hadn’t really eaten since the broadcast went out. So they accepted a few more bites until they felt really sick, then lay back and sipped from the water bottle until it was empty. 

“Better?” Asked Ghoul once he’d finished what Poison couldn’t eat. 

“Cold.” 

Poison wasn’t sure if it was the actual temperature or if it was just him, but Ghoul didn’t protest. He layered another blanket over the two of them and curled around Poison. With Ghoul’s soft breath in his ear and a decent amount of food and water back in his system, Poison found it almost easy to drift off to sleep. 

If only they didn’t dream about Jet and their brother. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:  
> \- Vomiting  
> \- Descriptions of injuries and blood  
> \- Some injury treatment/first aid  
> \- Talking about drinking, drugs, sexual content, violence, and suicidal ideation/attempts

Poison woke screaming. 

Fun Ghoul was still wrapped around him, which was probably the only reason he hadn’t moved enough to aggravate his ribs. Even with Poison’s screams directly in his ear, it took Ghoul a moment to open his eyes and when he did all he could do was blink numbly at Poison while he fought to get out of Ghoul’s embrace. 

Finally, something clicked and Ghoul blinked, wide awake. 

“Pois, hey. Just a dream. You’re awake. You’re fine.”

Morning light filtered through the curtains as Poison whipped their head around to look at Ghoul. It made it easy for them to pinpoint the exact moment that Ghoul’s face fell when Poison whispered, “Kobra.”

He dissolved into tears again. With a sigh, Ghoul wrapped his arms around Poison’s shoulders and skimmed one hand up and down his back. 

“I know. I’m sorry.”

It didn’t take as long for Poison to cry themself out this morning. When they finished, Ghoul ran a hand through Poison’s hair, then made a face. 

“You feel up to a shower? I’ll make breakfast.”

Poison nodded. Ghoul swung his legs off the edge of the bed and supported Poison’s body weight as he stood. Together, the two ‘joys trooped to the bathroom, where Ghoul helped Poison get undressed and into the shower. When he left, Poison leaned against the shower wall under the spray, then eventually just ended up sitting down while water flowed over him. It hurt too much to actually wash himself, but the cold water woke him up somewhat. When Poison hunched over the drain to vomit again, he felt the water run through his hair and figured that would rinse it out enough to be up to Ghoul’s standards.

A knock on the door startled Poison. They flinched upright as Ghoul’s voice filtered through the door.

“Party? Y’aliv— alright in there?”

“Yeah,” Poison called back, his voice cracking.

“Breakfast’s ready. Do you need help?”

“‘M fine.”

There was a long silence before Ghoul responded, “Shout if you need me.”

Footsteps faded back towards the kitchen and Poison steeled themself to get out of the shower. Leaning heavily against the shower wall, they stood, then carefully stepped out onto the bathroom floor. As they reached for a towel, Poison caught a glimpse of themself in the mirror.

Mottled bruises decorated his torso, some just red, some a deep purple. The clear shape of a fist marked the side of Poison’s chest and he pressed one finger to it, then convulsed as pain lanced through his body. When his vision returned, Poison turned his gaze to his face. It wasn’t pretty. King Mohilla had not held back and the evidence of that was clear in Poison’s blackened eyes, crooked nose, and the swollen split bisecting his upper lip. He leaned close to the mirror, recoiling when the blood pooling in one eye came into focus. Poison stumbled back from the mirror and hit the wall with a thud that sent a fresh wave of pain crashing over his body, A ragged gasp scraped through Poison’s lips as he slid to the floor, the wide burn on his knee protesting the movement.

“Pois?” Ghoul’s voice returned. “Y’sure you’re—”

“Can you”—Poison nearly choked on the words—“Can you come in here, please?”

The bathroom door creaked open and Ghoul entered.

“Hey.”

“I can’t… I—”

“You need help?”

There was too much understanding on Ghoul’s face. Poison dropped their gaze as they nodded.

“Okay.”

Too gently, Ghoul helped Poison get to his feet, dry off, and get dressed. He sat Poison on the toilet and brushed his hair, then braided it back and out of his face. He wet the corner of a towel and cleaned the cuts decorating Poison’s face, wiping gently at the dried blood crusted on his lips and eyebrow. Last, Ghoul smoothed aloe over the burn from his raygun and wrapped it in a length of clean-ish fabric. By the time Ghoul was done, Poison wasn’t sure if he wanted to push Ghoul away, or collapse into his chest.

“I found a jar of applesauce and made coffee. Figured y’wouldn’t wanna eat anything too hard.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

Ghoul helped Poison limp into the dining room, where one of the booths had their meagre breakfast laid out on it.

And two masks.

“You don’t... You don’t have to decide now. But,” the whole time he spoke, Ghoul didn’t look at Poison, “Cherri’s not responding to my calls and I found these. Guess they didn’t take them when they left.”

The masks stared up at Poison. Jet’s black-and-purple mask and Kobra’s blue-black-and-red. Poison tried to feel glad that at least they had the masks. At least Kobra and Jet could be carried on by the Witch. At least they wouldn’t be forgotten.

All that Poison felt was emptiness. The last things he had that were really his brother’s and his best friend’s and now he had to give them away. Back to the Witch. Gone forever with no chance of them coming back. Left with just memories.

They hadn’t even realized they were hyperventilating until Ghoul’s hand came into view and he swept the masks away.

“Sorry. You don’t— We can keep them for now.” Ghoul waited for Poison to get his breathing under control and meet his gaze before he continued. “I just… thought you’d want to know we had them.”

Poison ducked their head and swallowed a bite of applesauce. “Okay.”

When the two ‘joys had finished their breakfast, Ghoul turned the radio on low and put away the remains of the meal, Poison’s portion largely uneaten. He returned to the table clutching a deck of cards.

“Something to do?”

“Okay.”

Ghoul shuffled the cards and dealt. Eight to Poison, eight to himself. He put the remainder in the middle and flipped the top card over. A five of hearts.

“You first.”

Poison looked over his hand and chose a card. He placed it onto the flipped card and waited for Ghoul to play. The whole first round was silent other than the crackle of Ghoul’s radio playing DJ Hot Chimp’s station at its quietest possible volume.

Poison shuffled and dealt the next hand, then they sighed and looked up at Ghoul.

“I’m sorry.”

Ghoul played his turn in silence, seemingly content to wait for Poison to continue.

“I know— Fuck. I know I shouldn’t have disappeared like that, and I know I shouldn’t have run off and I know I shouldn’t’ve gotten high and I shouldn’t’ve tried to take those dracs on alone and I shouldn’t have kissed you and—”

“It’s” — Ghoul took Poison’s shaking hand — “fine. You weren’t… I don’t blame you.”

Poison set down another card and cleared their throat. “Doesn’t make it right.”

Sunlight filled the room, casting a golden light over Ghoul’s face as he met Poison’s gaze.

“No. It doesn’t. But Witch knows I’ve done th’ same.”

Ghoul played his turn, then cleared his throat slightly, “Sorry I shot you.”

“Could’ve been worse, I guess,” Poison admitted. “So what now?”

“We’re gonna play cards. In an hour or so I’m gonna try to get more food into you and you’re gonna pretend to enjoy it. We can drive over to Doc’s and pick up the Girl.”

“Shit. I forg—”

“It’s okay.”

“No Ghoul. I _forgot_ about the Girl. I— How could I—”

“Poison.” The calm tone of Ghoul’s voice didn’t change. “Your brother died. Jet died. You went on your version of a bender and did something — I don’t need to know what — to get the shit beaten out of you and then you tried to commit suicide-by-drac. You were not okay and still aren’t and it’s okay that you forgot about her. I didn’t. Doc didn’t. Cherri, wherever he is, didn’t either. She’s fine.”

“I tried to fuck a stranger.”

That startled Ghoul into silence for a moment.

“At the bar. I-I thought it would, I don’t know, be a good distraction. Make it easy to forget. I just wanted to forget.”

“You don’ like sex.”

“I didn’t go through with it.”

“Good. I saw that guy you were with. You know how much worse this would all be if you also caught sagerash?”

“Shut up.” Poison cracked a smile and Ghoul laughed.

They played another hand in a more comfortable silence, then Ghoul cleared his throat.

“Pois—" He paused. "You hear something?”

Poison strained his ears and picked up the faint sound of a truck engine.

“That’s Cherri’s truck.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:  
> \- Blood and Injuries  
> \- First aid (vaguely described)  
> \- Death mentions and discussion

“Stay here.”

Poison bristled at the order but realized that, yeah, they probably shouldn’t try to move that much. Setting down his cards, Ghoul slid out of the booth and left the diner. 

Poison stared at the empty bench across from them, trying to figure out what they’d say to Cherri. How they’d explain their disappearance. How to apologize to someone that just lost the love of his life.

Ghoul shouted indistinctly and Poison peered through the window. The glare of the sun made it hard to tell exactly what was happening, but there was a clump of bodies that looked a lot larger than just Ghoul and Cherri should be. A flash of red leather sent Poison shooting out of the booth, cursing his aching body as he stumbled towards the door.

The ringing of the bell when Poison threw the door open drew the attention of the people gathered in front of Cherri’s truck. Two of the figures, still hazy in the bright sunlight, separated from the others and Poison recognized a familiar head of curly hair.

“No fucking way.”

Poison ran towards the truck. They slammed full-speed into Jet Star and the Kobra Kid, sending them crashing back into the truck.

“Three days! Three fucking days! You were dead! Y-you died. Doc said you—”

“False broadcast.” Cherri interrupted Poison’s tearful rambling. “They were close, though, we should…”

“Fuck. Yeah. Witch, are you okay? You’re okay?” Poison let go of his family and checked them over. Ignoring the sharp pain growing in his ribs, Poison cupped Jet’s face in his hands, then Kobra’s.

“You look like shit.” Kobra flashed a small smile at Poison.

“You’re bleeding.”

He was. Blood coated most of Kobra’s face and stained his neck, shirt, hands, almost everything Poison could see.

“Pois.” Ghoul appeared at their side. “Let’s go inside? You need to sit down and I can’t do first aid out here.”

“Okay, yeah, okay. Fuck. You’re alive.” 

After gathering Jet and Kobra into one more rib-busting hug, Poison let Ghoul guide them all into the diner. They settled around a table, Cherri on one bench and Jet and Poison on the other. Poison kept a firm grip on Jet’s hand and reached up to grab Kobra’s when Ghoul sat him on the table. A slight rustle told Poison that, on Kobra’s other side, Cherri had mirrored the action.

“What th’ fuck _happened_ , Kid?” Ghoul asked as he began to clean the blood from Kobra’s front.

“I dunno,” was Kobra’s tight reply. 

He obviously suppressed a wince and Poison looked up to see that, with most of the blood wiped away, there was a clearly visible set of slices across Kobra’s throat. Poison tried to shoot to his feet, but Jet pulled him down to their side again.

“Ghoul’s got it.”

It took a few minutes for Ghoul to clean the wounds. Kobra barely moved, only squeezing Poison’s hand so hard his knuckles turned white when Ghoul had to clean a particularly stubborn clump of sand from his neck. There was no new blood; in fact, the wounds looked much older than three days. But Poison still felt much better once Ghoul had secured a bandage around Kobra’s neck and waved him off of the table.

Kobra curled into Cherri’s side on the far bench when Jet climbed up onto the table for Ghoul to examine them next. Not wanting to lose contact with either of them, Poison scooted out of the booth and around to sit next to Kobra. To feel his body heat and hear his steady breathing. They took Jet’s hand again.

“You seriously don’t know?” Murmured Poison.

Kobra shrugged, dropping his head to Cherri’s shoulder and squeezing Poison’s hand once.

“Clap gone wrong,” Jet supplied. They stayed very still as Ghoul helped them out of their jacket and shirt, revealing some deep-looking blaster wounds in their shoulder, back, and stomach. “Exterminator got the jump on us.”

“How are you—” Poison stopped that train of thought when Ghoul began to pour antiseptic over Jet’s shoulder and they let out a groan. “Those look _nasty_ , Jet.”

“They don’t feel too great either, Pois,” Jet ground out. They shuddered as Ghoul began to do… _something_ involving gauze, a lighter, and a knifepoint in the crater on their shoulder.

“Seriously, I see why D thought you were dead. That’s… Jet that looks like it should’ve been leth—”

“Poison,” interrupted Ghoul.

“What?”

Poison looked around the table. Kobra’s eyes were closed and he was breathing shallowly, Cherri was gripping his hand with white knuckles and had his gaze fixed on a crack in the diner window. On the table, Jet’s chest rose and fell rapidly. They blinked hard and stared up at the ceiling. For a second, Ghoul shot a glare at Poison, then his gaze slid past him and his face softened.

“Need air.” 

There was an edge to Kobra’s voice that pushed Poison to scoot out of the booth and let him past. Kobra practically ran from the dining room.

“I’m gonna—” Cherri moved to get up, but Ghoul fixed a hard stare on him.

“Sit. Don’t think I don’t see that shit on your head.”

Confused, Poison glanced at Cherri and noticed, for the first time, a scorched patch of hair and a swathe of blood on the side of his head.

“Party,” continued Ghoul, “Go check on Kobes but don’t mention— Uh… Don’t be stupid. An’ watch your ribs.”

“What did you do to your— Mother _fucker_ ,” Jet swore as Ghoul started cleaning their wounds again.

Poison left Jet and Cherri to the capable hands of Fun Ghoul and went to track down their brother. 

Kobra hadn’t gone far; Poison found him curled up on the mattress in their bedroom, mirroring the way Poison had lain not much earlier.

“Hey,” whispered Poison.

Kobra mumbled a reply as Poison tiptoed closer. He sat on the mattress and Kobra rolled over, grabbing for his shirt and dragging him to lie down.

For a while, neither of them said anything. Kobra buried his face in Poison’s chest and trembled while they rubbed his back gently. After some time, Jet edged into the room and curled around Poison’s back, breathing shakily.

“I’m sorry,” Poison broke the silence. “I didn’t think—”

“It’s okay—” Jet started to say at the same time that Kobra sobbed, “I think I died.”

“Yeah,” mumbling Jet, reaching over to put a hand in Kobra’s hair. “That’s what I meant.”

Poison didn’t know what to say. His own grief-induced stupidity paled in comparison with Jet and Kobra’s hopefully-just- _near_ -death experiences.

The room descended into silence once more. 

An amount of time passed. Poison couldn’t have said how much. They just lay there, holding their brother, being held by Jet, feeling both of them breathe in an unignorable reminder that whatever had happened the past three days, they were here now.

Alive. 

Ghoul and Cherri entered the room and crawled into bed too. The mattress was, really, far too small for the five of them. But they made it work. There was a moment when Kobra squeezed Poison too tight, setting his ribs on fire, and once when Ghoul adjusted his position he accidentally drove an elbow into one of Jet’s blaster wounds, sending them into a gasping fit of pain and panic. It was a reminder that none of them were really okay, but for the moment they put up with their physical aches to enjoy being together again.

Poison took as deep a breath as they could and let it out.

It felt good. It felt right.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment or come chat with me on [tumblr!](sleevesareforlosers.tumblr.com)


End file.
